


feels like the world is resting on your shoulders

by VioletSauce



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Sad, but hopeful, it's bad but then it gets better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 18:59:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletSauce/pseuds/VioletSauce
Summary: Jason gives a startled laugh, then quietens immediately because he hasn’t laughed since before Bruce died, since before he took up the mantle. As Robin, it was Jason’s personal mission to make Batman laugh, and as Red Hood, it was to make him angry. Now he’s Batman and he’s not laughing and he’s not full of rage either.





	feels like the world is resting on your shoulders

The first night he goes out it feels like he’s going to suffocate. The suit is heavy, the bat on his chest is pressing down onto his ribs, onto his lungs. The cowl is tight on his face, dries his skin. Makes it easier and harder at the same time.  
The bat on his chest means more than he ever will, Jason repeats to himself and keeps moving.  
It’s only been three days since Batman fell. Since Bruce died.  
The signal is on. There is already a figure of a man on the rooftop.  
“Commissioner,” Batman‒ not Jason‒ says, as his first greeting to the man.  
Jim Gordon looks at him, taking in the costume‒ Jason had it altered slightly, for a better fit and a look that invokes fewer memories. He knows that Gordon can see the difference, not only in the costume, but also in the posture, the build, for all that he and Bruce are‒ were alike. Gordon knows it is a different man speaking to him from behind the cowl. Even so, he replies, “Batman.”  
“What’s the problem?” Jason‒ not Batman‒ says and nearly visibly cringes. Batman‒ Bruce‒ wouldn’t have said it like that.  
“We have a serial killer,” Commissioner says. “I thought you’d want to have some info even though I’m sure you’ve already been looking into this.”  
Jason blinks. He didn’t even know. All this time there’s been a serial killer with enough victims for the GCPD to tell that it’s one and the same case, and he didn’t even notice.  
He’s already failing Bruce.  
“Thank you,” he says mechanically as he accepts the files. “This will help.”  
Gordon doesn’t say anything else, not like he did to Bruce when he was Batman. Jason doesn’t let it bother him.

* * *

Jason knows he’ll never forget Bruce’s final words to him. He can try to run away, persuade himself that he doesn’t care, that it’s not his responsibility. He’ll fail every time.  
“Save the city,” Batman‒ not Bruce‒ tells him, with blood on his lips and in his mouth. Jason feels sick‒ he remembers that feeling all too well even though it’s been years.  
“Take care of the family,” Bruce‒ not Batman‒ breathes into his ear, and Jason’s eyes are full of tears. He doesn’t let them fall. He closes his eyes, then Bruce’s, and he allows himself a few minutes to mourn his team leader. His father.

* * *

Jason is the perfect pick to take up the cowl and the only one available. Dick is gone, away god knows where, no reassurance of his safety except for the messages that come twice a week. They always read “I’m alive.” Nothing else. Tim’s too young, too innocent even if he’s wickedly smart. Jason would never do it to him, not if he can help it. And Damian‒ god, he can barely look at Damian. Can’t look him in the eye knowing that it was partially Jason’s fault the teen’s father is dead.  
None of them could take the cowl, none of them should have to. Jason will spare them.  
Another reason is that Jason is still legally dead and there are no records of him having ever existed. Now, nobody can point fingers and write conspiracy theories that Bruce Wayne is Batman‒ since Bruce Wayne is dead and Batman is still fighting his neverending war in Gotham. And, as far as team can tell, nobody but the Commissioner has noticed the change.  
Batman is how he should have always been‒ no identity, no name, no face. Just the Bat.  
One night after patrol, Jason comes into Bruce’s office and finds papers. Papers that would’ve restored him as a legal entity, as part of the family. Papers that are now the only thing that hold the identity of Jason Todd, the boy who died, the man who almost had the chance to come back and be Jason Wayne.  
Alfred finds him an hour and a half later, his face covered in drying tracks of tears.

* * *

He doesn’t call his family by their names. He calls Barbara “Batgirl”, Tim “Red Robin” and Damian “Robin”. He doesn’t respond whenever they call him Jason, either. They don’t understand, he thinks as he stares at the glass case that they’ve installed in Bruce’s honor. Funnily enough, he understands Bruce better than ever now, why he had the case for Jason installed. He understands now, and it’s enough to drag out a broken laugh that grows into a sob out of his chest.

* * *

For the first 2 months he does a bit of acting on the side. He goes out as Batman every night, but then he also goes out as Red Hood. First it’s three times a week, then twice, then Red Hood shows up once in two weeks and from then on, simply drops off the map. He’s laid the groundwork for the retirement of that identity, so nobody suspects a thing when the crime boss disappears and doesn’t come back. As always, Gotham moves on.

* * *

Then he has his first fight with the Joker and he wants nothing more than to kill the deranged maniac. Jason knows how easy it would be for him to snap his neck, can almost feel that throat under his gloved hand, but‒  
But there’s a different part of him now. Or maybe, Jason thinks, it’s not new at all, maybe it’s been there all along, maybe it formed when he was still Robin, still a bright hopeful bird that flew by the Bat’s side. That part of him says, “We don’t kill,” and it’s Bruce’s voice.  
Bruce had his way of doing things, and Red Hood had his way of doing things. In the end, both of them failed. Just like Jason is going to. Just like Jason already is.  
If he beats Joker up more than usual, nobody says anything about that. And if the maniac laughs as he tells the other inmates at Arkham that there is a new Bat, well, nobody believes him anyway.

* * *

He doesn’t get the best start with the Justice League, but they respect Batman’s wishes and they respect Jason for wearing the suit. It’s enough for the beginning.  
It gets better as time goes by, as he slowly comes out of his seclusion from the real world, the world not drowned in the darkness of Gotham’s nights, as he accepts being called by his name again, as he accepts friendship and help.  
He trains with Jessica and Simon, works forensics with Barry, has lunches with Diana and Clark, discusses sports and science with Victor. He doesn’t build any relationship with Arthur, but they are civil to each other and that it enough.  
The world still has no idea that the Batman is different. It doesn’t care. Jason is going to save it anyway.

* * *

Months go by and the family is healing. He’s been speaking to them‒ actually speaking, not vigilante-related‒ and it makes the cowl so much more bearable.  
It happened, Jason supposes, when he went to the kitchen to get something to drink and found Tim there, half-asleep on his laptop. It takes his brother ten entire minutes to notice him and then he just blinks and says, “Oh, I didn’t see you there,” like it’s the most normal thing in the world, and since he’s Batman now, the one who stays in the shadows, unseen, Jason thinks it is.  
It’s so sudden and so logical at the same time that Jason gives a startled laugh, then quietens immediately because he hasn’t laughed since before Bruce died, since before he took up the mantle. As Robin, it was Jason’s personal mission to make Batman laugh, and as Red Hood, it was to make him angry. Now he’s Batman and he’s not laughing and he’s not full of rage either.  
A hand lands on his shoulder, and Tim says, “Come on,” and takes him to the living room. There he makes him lie on the couch, then lies down next to him. Jason falls asleep easier than he has in weeks.  
When he wakes up, Damian is also curled up on his side, and Tim’s weight has made his shoulder numb. He doesn’t care a bit, just wraps his arms tighter around his brothers.  
On that same day Dick comes back, too.

* * *

Years later, they’re still not completely okay. They’re better, yes, but they’ll never be as they have been before. And they wouldn’t want to be, not without Bruce there.  
Jason‒ not Batman‒ writes, publishes, writes more, and writes until he has nothing to let out, then waits until there’s something and keeps writing. He’s published books that make Alfred tear up in pride, Diana praise him, his brothers grin at him and poke his work for plot holes in a good-natured, teasing way. He lets them, for a while, then dismantles their theories with details that he puts in all of his books specifically to throw them off. He’s a detective, after all. He knows all about evidence.  
Batman‒ not Jason‒ still fights his neverending war in Gotham, with Robin at his side. He thinks Damian might retire Robin in a few years and take up a new name‒ Jason’ll let him do that in a heartbeat, because Damian is the best person to be the last Robin. He won’t take another one since, unlike Bruce, he’s a Batman that doesn’t need a Robin. Or, rather, he’s a Batman that has been Robin and, to a certain degree, still is.  
Perhaps, Jason hasn’t been the best choice to become Batman after all. But, he can’t help thinking as he leaves flowers at Bruce’s grave, his father would be proud of him.

**Author's Note:**

> me: ugh I hate it when writers make the role of Batman feel mentally heavy, like nobody can handle the duty and not be changed by it  
> me: /writes almost exactly that/


End file.
